• Growing up, I always saw my dad working late hours into the evenings and weekends. I see this even now. Sometimes, it frustrates my mum. Sometimes, she understands. It’s always from a kind place – as she just wants him to be present, both with her and us. Sometimes she expects me and my brother to be working just as much. But, I’ve always believed that I don’t want to be like that. I have wanted to be present for my family from a young age. I have wanted to be prioritising them over work. I have wanted to separate work from home, so that I’m never frustrated at my family and always present. I know now that these things are harder than they sound, but I can at least try, right?

    I’ve seen this with my own limited experience while working. The commute doesn’t always decompress me as much as I hoped it would by the time I get home. And sometimes, I need another few minutes to just deflate and exhale all the day’s frustrations and hard feelings. I have found just having these few minutes of peace to myself really helps. Writing, talking it out, breathing or even just closing my eyes for a few minutes for a much needed but unintentional nap in my parking garage, really does help. Just one of these things ensures that I enter the house with a fresh headspace, ready to take on whatever is happening at home; ready to be present for my family and friends. I visibly notice the difference when I don’t do this. It’s a lifesaver. I’d rather come home a few minutes later than come home in a bad mood.

  • Lately, I’ve been filling my free time with endless thoughts. Overthinking about each and every branch of my future career and life path, and the various hurdles needed to surpass to get there. Wherever ‘there’ is. It’s tiring, overwhelming and ultimately I’m not sure I’m closer to making a ‘decision’, but perhaps closer to a ‘direction’.

    I’m in an incredibly lucky position, something I need to remind myself of more often, because I have unlimited choice. I have freedom and the foundation to be pretty much whatever I want to be. I’ll likely end up happy in most of those paths, because I’ve learned to be happy in myself rather than what happens to me on the outside. Which almost makes things harder – there’s no single ‘right’ choice.

    My barber likens this phenomenon to an all-you-can-eat buffet. In the previous generation, the number of cuisines and dishes on the table were limited. It was easier to compare individual choices and choose one. As time has gone on, the number of cuisines and dishes on the table has exponentially risen. They’ve become more accessible with globalisation. What compounds this choice anxiety is that we can now more easily experience what would have happened if we’d chosen the other cuisine, or the other dish. We can compare with others at the press of a fingertip through the internet, learning about people at earlier or later life stages, choosing the same or different cuisines or dishes. Seeing all these other choices play out and work out well gives us the impression we may have made the wrong choices; reminding us we could have chosen a better dish. The truth is that all cuisines have incredible dishes, and everyone has different tastes, preferences and dietary requirements. Learning to enjoy what’s on the plate in front of you takes practice, and might be easier if you don’t focus on all the other choices you could have made.

    The internet has given me a wealth of information to consume when I try to find out what career paths I can take as a doctor. I got tired after reading article after article. But I did learn some things which I will try to take with me as I make my own path. Being a doctor is a role that has lots of moving parts; lots of factors to consider. Lives are so complex. We are learning evermore information about the human body. It is very difficult to keep up with all of the latest advances and projects people are leading to improve healthcare. Everyone wants a better healthcare system, a better NHS, and some people are doing really good work to try and contribute to that. It’s inspiring, but also daunting, because it seems like everything you can think of has been done already.

    I came across a unique approach to guiding career choices – to go from the inside-out, i.e. to start with me and who I am, rather than try and pick a random path and follow it blindly.

    • I have always believed in kindness
    • I have always believed I am incredibly lucky and fortunate to be who I am
    • I have always dreamed of being part a happy and loving family
    • I love learning about new things
    • I love novelty and trying new things
    • I feel most comfortable when I am being wholly myself, in a forgiving environment that embraces curiosity

    When I write this list, it brings me peace in making big decisions. It helps remind me that lots of paths will meet this criteria. It also helps remind me when to leave and look for a path that gives me the above. So, whatever path I do end up falling upon, I will do my very best to continue matching myself to what I am doing.

  • I am struggling to answer the question ‘What do I want?’

    My mind jumps to a million different answers, all at once, and then I feel overwhelmed and shut down, and end up doing none of those things. Or I end up doing the thing I didn’t really want to do.

    I am writing because I struggle to articulate. When I say things aloud, the words that come out don’t always resonate with what I actually felt or actually wanted to say.

    I have read too many pieces of advice on this topic, listened to too many podcasts and not actually thought for myself for a while. There is a lot of noise around me, a lot of people who seemingly have it all figured and a lot of people who don’t. None of it is getting me anywhere.

    So, let’s try and simplify things and break it down.

    There are some things I know I want. There are some things I know I don’t want.

    • I want a family. Yes, everyone does. But I have always, from a young age, wanted a happy living environment and to be the parent to my child that I maybe wanted growing up.
    • I want freedom. To be unrestricted. To do what I want. Doesn’t everyone?
    • A real life Disney movie. Pure, happy, kind, nice, happy ending

    I also want:

    • To not work night shifts.
    • To look after my health because I don’t want to ever be an inpatient in a hospital.
    • I want to be able to think in a calm environment.
    • I don’t like chaos. I don’t like being on the conveyor belt to see patient after patient. It’s draining.
    • I want to make a real difference

    What has frustrated me about my first 1.5yrs as a doctor:

    • There is endless admin. It’s medicolegal, defensive work ingrained into us. Seniors will tell us how much it’s changed over the last 10-20 years, in front of their eyes. It’s repetitive, it’s draining.
    • The underlying problems don’t really get dealt with. They get pushed around. More bureaucracy. Not enough answers for patients. Not enough solutions. Come to see your GP, get referred here for blood tests or scans, and there to be seen by this doctor, at some point in the next few weeks to months. There is a lot of waiting and uncertainty for patients.
    • Staff are tired. They’re overworked, stressed, busy. They’ve had enough. They’re burnt out. It’s sad to see. I can see this for myself too.
    • There are constant conveyor belts everywhere. It feels like working in a factory, not a GP practice or a hospital. There is constant turnover of staff and patients. We are very replaceable as doctors. I don’t think we realise this.
    • I can’t seem to help patients as much as I’d like to. I’d love to have the time to sit with them to go through all of their issues, to educate, to help them feel empowered about their health. At the same time, I feel tired of preaching, of saying the same things over and over again. It feels like a hamster wheel.

    Another thing I know is that whatever this is right now is not what I want to keep doing. Something needs to change. Something doesn’t align at the moment.

    I can’t wait for that moment much longer.

  • Coming to the end of my psychiatry block, I have had a realisation about meetings. There were just too many of them. I sat through mindless meetings where time felt like it had completely stopped and I was stuck. Morning meetings on paper took half an hour, but in reality felt like my entire soul had been sucked out at times, and I was being punished.

    Sitting through meeting after meeting makes you realise that they are simply not work. They are a substitute for work. They don’t really help move anything forward. They can be summarised in an email. They are usually thoughts people have already had before the meeting. None of them have been revolutionary. They may change the odd thing here and there. Some of these changes aren’t really pushing the needle though.

    Meetings are tiring, they require a different type of social energy that takes some time to recharge afterwards. I could work on something I care about, something I’m using my mind for, for hours sometimes without a break. I couldn’t sit through a meeting, even on a topic I cared about, for longer than half an hour. I wonder why that is.

    Actions ultimately speak louder and more profoundly than words. Words actually are mostly filler. Mostly mind dumping. Mostly unnecessary. It’s interesting that people find the need to share their every thought at work as if it is what they’re there to do. That’s what writers do.

    One of my seniors told me they did a job in Denmark where meetings were very few and far between. Work was actually done. Progress was actually made. Things got done. People were doing things they wanted to do. People felt motivated. People weren’t drained. The environment was different.

    Ideas do need to be bounced off people sometimes. This can be done outside a formal meeting. Creativity isn’t plan-able. Meetings certainly aren’t most people’s creative spaces. Idle thought and flow states aren’t reached when they are interrupted by meetings upon meetings.

    Here’s a call to just do the work. Stop calling meetings. Talk to people individually. Actually connect and listen to them that way.

  • Today was my busiest day yet. I’m the only doctor covering three separate sites while on call for psych. All 20 minute drives from each other. It’s been manageable so far. But today was tough. I’m coming home at nearly midnight writing this having left home at 8am.

    I counted the number of calls I got and it was 48. I don’t know what I was hoping to gain by counting them. A massive range of tasks. Objectively a really interesting day. I met so many people, staff and patients, I lost track. I didn’t really eat or drink between 9am and 9pm. At times, it felt like chaos. But at the same time it was controlled. I was a motor. I just kept going. I was steady.

    My tracker showed just 10 minutes of stress all day. I remember I had an on call shift once showing nearly 6 hours of high stress. I think this was because I was the only doctor on site. I wasn’t really influenced by others as much. I had time while travelling in between sites to calm down, listen to music or my podcast and just chill. I had time to think. I had time without people telling me what to do. I was managing my workload. And I liked it. I enjoyed it. I was almost in a flow like state in the afternoon. I only really felt the tiredness later once it got dark.

    With this many bleeps, you unfortunately can’t do every one. Not without compromising patient care. The way I work prioritises quality of care over speed. And I will try to keep that up throughout my career despite all the external pressures to do more and to go faster than is comfortable. I have gotten more used to handing things over and switching off after work about the day, but it is difficult. As my supervisor told me, it’s a balance between trying not to be a perfectionist but still showing plenty of care and effort with each patient. I think I’m slightly towards the perfectionist side at the moment. But I’ll get there.

    The issue with this is that it’s a team sport. If you look hard enough you’ll find some holes, some mistakes from others, some things done by others that aren’t quite the way you’d do them. Sometimes you don’t even have to look that hard. And it’s about picking which ones you wanna deal with, and which ones can do without. Even if you start going through your own work, you’ll find plenty of holes and things you might change. I find it hard to accept that’s that and am always looking for the next gap or the next miss. I love finding those imperfections, but I don’t know when to stop sometimes.

    I think the key with the busy days is to try and reflect on them. Same with other less busy days too. I’ve found it makes me a better doctor. Some people today appreciated my work. Some people were lovely and very grateful. And that’s always nice. Some people swore at me. Some people distracted me. Some people got annoyed at me. Some people felt ignored. I can’t please everyone unfortunately. I’m trying to engineer my brain to remember the good bits. And think about what I could have done about the less good bits. And if I’d have done nothing different next time, then that’s that.

  • Having worked with lots of families now who’ve been through a lot emotionally with health issues, I’ve seen what feels like the full range of families. I’ve seen distant families who never visit and don’t pick up the phone, and those who are there every second of every day. Some hit you harder than others. Today, someone I’d gotten to know over the last couple days really got to me.

    An older man, the husband to his wife with dementia. She’d only had it diagnosed a few months ago, but has been suffering for years. Family suffering all the more. Especially this man, who knew his wife for 30+ years, had many incredible memories together, and now she sometimes forgets who he is. He told us she talks about her husband in front of him, with the same name, and same memories, but he isn’t even acknowledged. Even though he’s sat right next to her. It’d be upsetting to hear for anyone with a heart and tears. Someone in his generation, of his kind, wouldn’t normally ask for help, wouldn’t normally admit he was struggling. And our team were apparently the first to properly listen. He’s met countless doctors yet we were the first. It’s shocking really.

    It’s so powerful to listen. We can offer help, signpost him to all the services in the area, his GP, medications, charities, all these unlimited things online. Yet, the most important thing he actually needed was someone to listen. To hear him. To empathise. It’s free to listen. It’s hard, but it doesn’t even take that long. It’s easy. Yet, why was it that we were the first in a few months to hear him?

    The environment maybe helped – we’d talked to him alone, away from his family. No more having to put up a brave face. The crutch for the rest of the family. The lone wolf.

    It felt admirable to see him cry. It felt like a privilege to be the one to look him in his teary eyes afterwards, heartily shake his hand and tell him that we’d sort it out. We’d look after his stresses. He left the room with visible weights off his shoulders. The relief was palpable. My feeling was that he’d cry once more after he’s left the room too, maybe at home, but this time, tears of relief. And after that, things would start becoming slightly more okay.

    The situation is a tough one. Dementia is incurable. It’s progressive. It’s a loss of their mind. A loss of who they once were. And medications can only do so much to attempt to bring that person back. It might make them calmer, but does it make them more themselves? That’s what these families really want, is someone who’s familiar to them, someone who remembers them too for who they were. As I read in Oliver Sack’s ‘A man who mistook his wife for a hat’, “Who are we without memories?”

    I feel incredibly lucky to be in this position to help these people. I wish we could do more. I wish there was a magic pill, a way to just click and make it all go away. But unfortunately there isn’t.

    It reminded me how lucky I am to not have a family member with dementia. To be able to look after my health. I hope so anyway. Nobody chooses to have dementia. But hopefully I can do as much as I can to prevent it in myself and my family.

  • I was doing psychiatry nights and it’s my job to work out why new patients have come to the hospital and find out more about them. So, there was this one person who took some time to talk to as they had a complicated story.

    Their story was interesting and I wanted to do things properly rather than subject them to prejudices and biases from reading their notes. When some people have certain diagnoses or labels on their notes, I have seen many people be treated differently because of these. Biases can work both negatively and positively, they can result in people being given more or less time and attention. Seeing both makes you really think that biases are so common. Even the most simplest ones, and the ones you’d think no longer exist.

    In this situation, my patient was a woman. And after leaving the room, the healthcare assistant who was with me asked ‘Do you believe her?’. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that phrase. It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked this. But, this time it really hit me. This person has just spilled her life story to me after I carefully built rapport and trust, and it was an extremely vulnerable time for them. I understood that some details were inconsistent but I do believe that the assumption should be to believe people’s stories. Innocent until proven guilty. Truth until proven lie.

    It made me feel sad for people like her. It made me feel sad that some of these people are subject to these biases, especially in mental health, where these healthcare assistants and mental health staff have worked for many years, and likely dealt with some genuine and some not so genuine people. Their trust seems to have been eroded by their experiences. And their faith in humanity seems to have dropped – even in telling the truth; their truth. Everyone’s truth is slightly different, everyone’s version of the truth is unique. And just because we don’t agree with their truth should not mean that we don’t believe their truth. Or at least give them a chance.

    I think what made me sad was that the bias was such an outdated one, yet seemingly such a common one. Women not being believed is a huge issue, not just in mental health, but in society. This issue seems to be still present today. I just think it’s incredible with all the advancements we’ve apparently made in society, that such an outdated prejudice of not believing a woman came up.

    I guess you just have to keep trying to stick to what you know is right, and try not to be too influenced by the people around you and the prejudices, the biases. We all do have some element of unconscious bias, and being aware of them and trying not to act on them, keeping things equal and fair is important.

  • I heard several stories today from people. Each one led me to reflect. They all gave me one lesson to remember. It’s all about the people.

    These stories were from several family friends detailing their struggles, their experiences with their skin. They all came about after they asked me what I wanted to do, and I told them about my recent ambition to do dermatology. They were all eye opening. I knew from my own experiences that skin conditions are horrible, can knock your confidence and that’s why I wanted to do dermatology in the first place – to help those who had that happen to them. But, today reaffirmed that for me. To an extent I did not expect.

    I think I used to think it was just me. It was me who suffered more than everyone else. It was me who had the worst acne. Me whose acne needed 2 lots of roaccutane and still isn’t perfect. Me who cried all the time at the skin. Me me me. I didn’t really think about anyone else and how they were suffering too. I always knew others suffered too, but it didn’t occur to self-centred teenage me.

    Today just reminded me that actually it was lots of people that suffered. Not just as teenagers too. Into their twenties and even into adulthood. It was something you know consciously and makes perfect sense, but for some reason, you need to hear it just once again, at the right time, for you to fully process and realise and reflect on it, and think ‘wow people really do have similar or worse experiences after all with their skin’.

    The long lasting, almost traumatic, effects are evident from their stories. Their eyes. Their emotion. Their passion. Their crazy detailed knowledge about the topic. And it’s because they’ve suffered with it that they’ve done the research, they know what they need, but they don’t have the resources or contacts to necessarily get what they need. And it sounds extremely frustrating. They weren’t listened to, they were sent away, they were dismissed, they were told they were overreacting. It is tough in a Google age to tell your patients they’re actually incorrect about their own health, and it is tough to hear that from the patients they feel dismissed as a result. It’s a fine balance. It’s tough. It’s interesting.

    At the end of the day, it’s all about the people behind the stories. The struggles. I want to give people that power. I want to listen. I want to help. I want to really help. I want people to feel confident in their own skin. I want to find out just why people get these skin conditions that debilitate people. It drives some people to severe depression and anxiety, and these conditions ruin and takeover lives. There are many other conditions that do too, of course. I could go on and on about each and every system, and how they all have conditions which just halt people in their life tracks. It is incredibly really, just how important health is, just how it can genuinely ruin lives in a way that is just so personal, yet universal.

    I hope I can one day truly help people with their lives, with their skin, with their confidence, with them feeling themselves, feeling empowered and feeling listened to. I do care. I want to have the knowledge, the resources, the credibility to show that tangibly.

  • I had to try and deal with an incident today.

    A family had been treated terribly by another hospital. With disdain. Disrespect. Rushed. Suboptimal care at best. It wasn’t their first time either.

    It becomes more difficult when you’ve seen both sides. I’ve been in that hospital, and know how shortly staffed, how intense the management expectations are and just how busy that department is. Things do fly under the radar. Guidelines are in place to make quicker decisions that are more clear cut. And they were followed. But what was maybe missed was the human aspect. The kindness. The patience. The listening. The calmness.

    And maybe then that person would have been treated better. That family would have been treated better. That family wouldn’t have lost faith in the system then. They’d be nicer to others then. They’d feel less angry themselves. Everything would be better then, right?

    It was interesting to see this play into each and every step of the way. Initially, that person was transferred overnight to another hospital. They’d fallen and were bleeding badly at a psychiatric hospital. Sent to A&E overnight. Somewhere along the way, notes were lost. Staff were switched over. Handover was lacking. Information was lacking. Angry people got angrier. They let their feelings known to people around them.

    Our patient was over-sedated due to their anger. Zombified. It’s one way of dealing with it. Maybe the quickest. Maybe even followed the guidelines. But maybe wasn’t the most human. Wasn’t the kindest. Maybe could have been avoided. Overworked staff there got angry at our staff. For nothing that was their fault. For something that should have been dealt with by someone else. But I guess if everyone things it’ll be dealt with by someone else, nothing gets done but everyone gets angry about it. Volumes go up. Veins start bulging in foreheads. Tensions rise. Hearts race. But none of these things make anything go quicker, better or help at all really.

    It’s an incredible domino effect as soon as one person acts this way for everyone else down the chain to feel the same way. Could have been something unrelated to work – something at home, with your own family, something on your commute, anything at all – that just raised your anger levels. Brought the threshold to lose it down. It’s amazing to witness. It’s really interesting. And I’d love to know how many people are aware of it. Or actually do something about it. One person getting angry guarantees their surrounding people to be closer to getting angry or upset. It can heighten emotions in various directions. And it either overwhelms or comes out to avoid overwhelming oneself.

    Our staff came back crying. I assumed it was to do with the angry staff they later told me about. But it was actually the taxi driver on the way back who’d given them a piece of their mind. They’d had a drunken person vomit in their taxi that morning, so when they heard they were next getting a psychiatric patient, their mind conjured up the worst possible image. Despite being over-sedated and not causing harm to anyone at all, they kicked up a fuss. Their mind found something to be angry about. Their mind hadn’t reset from the morning drunkard. The threshold was lowered.

    When I saw our staff come back crying, I then noticed everyone else get increasingly annoyed. For them. With them. Voiced their annoyances. I was looking around hearing everyone voice their angers. And someone looked at me, asking if I was angry too. I was in disbelief. I wanted to lecture them on to control themselves and chill out, but I chose to just empathise instead. I understood why people were angry, but I didn’t agree with it. It wasn’t helpful to the situation. It actually did make the situation worse.

    Next up were the family. They then came in, fuming. Literal steam came out of ears. It was a sight. I then was the person, of course, asked to see this person’s broken nose which apparently A&E had not dealt with. Having never actually assessed someone’s broken nose, in med school or in my entire first year as a doctor, I was a bit lost. I was thrust in the deep end, with family members and nurses looking at me expectantly while I shone my phone torch at this person’s nose, and after a bit of pondering thinking ‘it doesn’t look too bad but the family don’t think that, so don’t say that’, I ended up being honest. And that was received surprisingly well. I was expecting an offhand comment of ‘well what was 6 years training for then?’, or ‘aren’t you supposed to be the doctor?’. I empathised with their situation, listened, and simply said I would ask for help and I didn’t know much about what to do about their nose. I wasn’t the right person for that job.

    I talked calmly. I had open body language, hands up in the air surrendering. I spent a bit of time with them. I then stayed a bit after work researching what the right thing to do is, and spoke to the angry nurses. When I say spoke to, I really just stood there and nodded politely while they unilaterally vented at me. It is powerful. But everyone seemed to defuse after my presence. I was happy. It felt like I’d managed the situation, even though I didn’t really do anything. I stopped the butterfly effect of anger in its place. I felt like I’d stopped a tsunami. And it was actually really easy.

  • Sleep has been increasingly seen as important in health. More so than anything else. More so than good food, exercise, social connections, environment, everything. Everyone knows sleep is important, but is it even considered in hospitals?

    When I was in the physical health hospital, sleep was essentially not considered. Night time medications were scheduled for 10pm. Observations were done 4 hourly, often throughout the night for most patients. Occasionally, this is necessary, but for those who have been stable and healthy, is it better to interrupt their sleep, or is it better to take observations? Things like blood pressure cuffs can be uncomfortable, the observations machines can be noisy, they have bright lights too sometimes. This wakes up not only the patient, but can wake up people around them.

    Imagine having a blood pressure cuff squeeze your arm at 2/3/4am. We wouldn’t be well rested or happy in the morning either. If this did happen to us one time, we could forgive it, we could sleep well the next night and things would be okay. But, imagine this happening every night during your entire hospital stay? Sometimes weeks, months. Imagine on top of this, having injections into your belly every day, sometimes twice a day. People get bruises, they say the injections are painful. Some of these people are mobile, some of these people don’t really need the injections to prevent a blood clot.

    It’s all a painful process. It’s tiring. It’s not always the kindest. Hospitals are the worst places to sleep. Most don’t have side rooms. Most hospital wards are quite noisy places. I remember once going to a ward on a night shift at 3am, and the staff were playing the radio on full blast to keep them awake. I thought it was mad. I understand the need to stay awake is tough, especially on a night shift, but I think the benefits and importance of sleep are simply overlooked.

    And then, when you get to 6am, the incredibly bright hospital lights are all turned on, and the day starts. But, the lights aren’t turned off until at least 10pm, at least after the final night medications round are done. People think 10pm to 6am is enough time, they should sleep 8 hours. But, we all know that’s not true. Going to bed at 10pm means actually going to sleep at maybe 10:15-10:30pm, at best. That’s in the sanctuary of home. That’s when you don’t have extra thoughts or stresses keeping you up. That’s when you’re not in hospital and ill! I know ill people are more sleepy, as their bodies need more rest, but they still have thoughts and stresses, which they can’t necessarily deal with in the same way they would do at home.

    Then, you get woken up at 6am with the lights, the observations, the medications round. Interrupted sleep isn’t the same as continuous sleep. It is not as good. It does negatively impact your health. I just think patients are not getting 8 hours of sleep in the hospital, there is no way. Most of them are not, I guarantee it if you put a sleep tracker on them. It is maybe 5-6 hours at most. And the effects of this compound with each night. Continuously sleeping 5-6 hours is horrendous for your health, puts you at risk for a whole host of health conditions.

    People who have an extended hospital admission must have an increased incidence of health conditions in the future. I don’t have the evidence myself, I admit. But, after working in the hospital, especially on the adult wards, it just did not seem like as much of a place of healing, as I initially thought hospitals were. Seeing patients over an extended hospital stay was what made me realise this. Seeing them towards the end of their weeks-months long stay was difficult. They couldn’t wait to go home, to actually rest. To be themselves again.

    I know we do lots of incredibly good things in hospital for people’s health, we do save lives, I’ve seen that first-hand. We do it through complicated medications and methods sometimes. But, I do think the simple things need looking at in the NHS. Sleep, better meals (who loves hospital meals? Nobody!), more exercise and activities to keep them engaged, more time outdoors, etc. The simple things. The ‘non-medical’ things. The preventative things.

    Once, a patient on a night shift begged me for an eye mask and ear plugs. It was my first night shift, so I thought it was a perfectly reasonable ask, and when I asked one of the staff for this, they snorted at me, and said it wasn’t a hotel. I think eye masks and ear plugs in hospital would be incredibly beneficial. On every ward, for every patient. People will sleep more, and get better sooner! I don’t have the evidence, I don’t have a study, I haven’t yet run a quality improvement project, but maybe I will try.

    Now, in the mental health hospital however, things are different. Sleep is considered. Sleep charts are kept for some patients. They each have their own bedrooms. It’s private, it’s more like a proper bed. They have curtains, they aren’t awoken at 6am for medications. They have a ‘normal’ start to the day at 8-9am. Their morning routines are attempted to be recreated, whatever habits that may entail. They have a ‘normal’ wind down at the end of the day after having dinner at 6pm. It feels like a weird luxury to be here. To see this happen. It does feel more like a hotel in that sense. The patients have more freedom, more activities to keep them engaged, an outdoor area they can access at any time if they wish. People to talk to them.

    Overall, sleep is considered as an actual important factor in the mental health hospital. Medications are optimised for this and their environments are too. If they didn’t sleep well one night, that is taken into account. Whereas, it was never really considered in the physical health hospital. Sleep is good for mental health, but it is also good for physical health. Sleep is healing.